The Elusive Lynx

While hiking in the bush during March a few years ago, I came across the tracks of an animal that I assumed had not inhabited the eastern Georgian Bay region for some time.

I had simply deduced that it had been trapped and possibly shot to such an extent that any remnant population which had existed was long gone. Apparently I was wrong and glad of it!

In one and a half hours I had managed to trudge, in my estimation, five to six kilometres straight into the woods. During the warmer months I would not have been able to access this area due to the abundance of marsh and bog-like conditions which would have blocked my way.

It would be far easier to hike through the area when wetlands were frozen solid. Even with the warmth of late March sunshine I could cross boggy areas and deeper marshes with ease.

At about what I thought was far enough into the bush, I ascended a rather high but gradually rising face of granitic rock. On reaching its peak I paused to relish the view before me. I could easily see over the tops of the trees for several kilometres in the direction from which I had just come.

As I looked down to study the mostly snow laden forest floor 60 or so metres below I caught sight of my footprints and their choice of passage through the forest. My eyes followed my boot prints backwards from the base of the high-rock on which I stood, and I was surprised at how chaotic and meandering my route had been as I attempted to seek a path of least resistance. Because of the topography I had rarely been able to walk in a straight line for more than few feet.

A thought raced through my head; If it was this tough going now especially without biting insects, I shuddered at the thought of being lost in such dense bush during the summer.

Preparing to push on I turned my back on the valley of trees and stood motionless surveying the flat and barren expanse of rock which now presented itself.

This landscape was a welcomed deviation from the tangled jumble of dead falls, trees and scrub bush I had recently been through. I began ambling at an easy pace toward a wall of white pine about 30 metres away, all the while searching for wolf tracks, or signs of wolf activity. So far though, I had only found evidence of fox, snowshoe hare and ruffed grouse.

I was contemplating heading back since it was cloudy and I did not trust the weather, especially when being so close to Georgian Bay. A blinding snow squall could hit at any time. (I was caught in one once in the bush and could not see my hand in front of my face) I had no interest in this excursion being the second time.)  But, just then my eyes spotted a line of tracks off to my left winding their way out of some pine trees and continuing on along the edge of the forest.  My curiosity got the better of me and I went to take a look-see.

At first I was absolutely stumped as to what animal made these tracks. I began to methodically go through a list of species in my head that might match them. It was obviously a carnivore since it left the paw print of a meat eater, but exactly what kind of meat eater I wasn't yet sure. Through a process of elimination I ruled out coyote, too big for coyote; too round for timber wolf and too large for otter, besides otter would have left a tail drag and that tobogganing motion in the snow that they're so famous for. So what the heck was it?

Suddenly that big light bulb in my brain lit up!  It must be, I concluded, a predatory cat! The more I looked at the tracks the more confident I became that it was definitely a Canadian Lynx!  My heart skipped a beat - since this was the first time I had ever seen concrete proof that they inhabited this area.

The Canadian Lynx (Lynx Canadensis) - usually averages around 7 or 8 kilograms and is a cyclical species, meaning that its population rises and falls every few years. Researchers many years ago found a direct correlation between populations of Lynx and snowshoe hare, the lynxes primary winter food source. It was found that as hare numbers increased, lynx numbers rose too. Studies also showed that more lynx meant more hares were being predated, and in turn, this would lead to a drop in snowshoe hare numbers.

Consequently researchers proved that when hare populations decline, lynx populations would follow accordingly generally in the following year.

In the last few years I had been aware that there had been a severe reduction in snowshoe hare populations, but recently I had been noticing indications of their presence everywhere! They were definitely bouncing back and as a result so were lynx. This scenario exemplifies perfectly the relationship between predator and prey.

There is however, an underlying reason for the sudden population explosions of snowshoe hare, and it is this:

When too many hares over browse their favourite bushes and shrubs it reduces their populations because they literally eat themselves out of house and home and, as a result, hare numbers decline. During this time, when hare numbers are very low, the bushes and shrubs which contain the all important nutrients that the hares need, more or less rejuvenate themselves and have the opportunity to grow healthy and strong.  For lack of a better term, they replenish themselves.

A strong food supply produces healthy snowshoe hares and more young survive.  As their numbers increase, so do lynx.

Now let's imagine that we're at the apex of an imaginary chart which shows lots of hares and lots of lynx and for a while there's plenty of food to go around. Life is good for a while but then things slowly start to go wrong.

Inevitably the hares begin to over browse which, in turn, triggers a defense system in the shrubs they eat. The vegetation, in its attempts to deter the snowshoes from killing it, produces bark and leaves that lack the nutrients the hares require for survival. As well , when these shrubs are over-browsed, fowl tasting resins are produced in the twigs.  Without this food source fewer young are born causing a population decline which occurs about every ten years.

Following the reduction in hare populations, Lynx numbers experience that same phenomena within the following two or three years, but nature allows both species to rebound and the cycle starts all over again.

The lynx/hare relationship is a fantastic example of how nature regulates itself so very well in the absence of human interference.

Since that time I've never again seen any evidence of lynx activity in the Six Mile Lake, Moon River Area, though I'm sure, and very hopeful that they're still out there - somewhere.

Bill Leeming is a wildlife columnist and naturalist with a background in ecology and environmental studies.